Triskaidekaphilia
by AishiExcel
Summary: Fragmented, broken. Disjointed. Pieces and splinters of the whirlwind romance between those tied by the number Thirteen- Beyond Birthday and Mihael Keehl. A collection of drabbles set in one week. BxMello, lemon now up.
1. Maelstrom

TRISKAIDEKAPHILIA

(A BxMello fic)

I know it's been a while since I've been on - and I apologize to anyone who wants a Little Things update from me. I'll talk about that at the end of this chapter.

However, first let me talk a little about the fic you're about to read. First and foremost, I have some warnings:

THIS FANFICTION WILL CONTAIN YAOI. That means male-on-male action.

Secondly,

THIS FANFICTION WILL CONTAIN LEMON. That means sex scenes. Not only that, but also this lemon will be between a convicted criminal and an underage boy. Parts of said lemon may be graphic, violent and/or disturbing.

This fanfiction may also include offensive language or imagery. That's all I have to say about that.

Now, a brief explanation about this fic: This will be a series of oneshots based around Beyond Birthday and Mello's imagined meeting. They won't be in sequential order, or even chronological order. They will vary in perspective, style and even tone. But if you put all of them together, they go with the same series of events. Think of it as Quentin Tarantino-style narration.

The premise for the following fanfiction is this: It's set during the canon Death note timeline. Sometime AFTER B's fire and imprisonment, and BEFORE (spoiler ahead) L's death, Mello decides he wants to know more about this Beyond Birthday L has told him of. He sneaks away from Wammy's and visits the California prison where Beyond is being held so he can interview him and put together a more complete report of the Los Angeles BB murder cases.

That's never quite explained in the fic, so I felt it a little necessary to avoid confused fans. It may be a farfetched idea, but it IS true that Mello knows exactly what Beyond did and though while writing the Los Angeles BB murder cases book.

I've ranted too much, however. I'll leave you to the first of thirteen installments of Triskaidekaphilia. (Anyone who can define that word in his or her review will get something special from me.)

* * *

**Maelstrom**. (N.): _Any irresistible or dangerous force._

* * *

His name was Mihael Keehl.

M-I-H-A-E-L K-E-E-H-L.

M.K. – that was 13.11. 13 was B, and 1+1=2, which was B. BB- like Beyond Birthday.

Those eyes burned into B's with such intensity B would have sworn they were gods' eyes like his own. His forceful voice drew answer after answer out of B- asking where, why, how. Stripping away all of the mystique until B's crime was a series of simple words that Mihael could then write down in his clean, illustrious manila folder.

He was beautiful.

B wanted to watch those lips form words over and over again. This daring little child… this bold little boy who came in, invaded Beyond's safe cell and asked questions about his failure… this child was enticing.

Thinking that, B knew, was dangerous. Mihael was only a child, albeit a particularly intelligent one. And he seemed to contain some sort of danger all his own- the danger of a child on the verge of a breakdown, of a sharp mind at its limit. Beyond could tell this boy would crack sometime in the future- maybe not within B's lifetime, but this was a boy destined for insanity. Mihael clearly understood the cruelty of the world. This boy had been hurt before, and had in turn hurt others.

Those pretty aqua eyes were orphan's eyes. They were jaded, tarnished.

B, half pumped full of sedatives and dreamy, told the child he was beautiful, irresistible. The child- Mihael- looked as though he'd been told this before. Mihael smiled a little wickedly when he smiled at all.

For a moment, B wondered who was truly predator and who was prey here. B felt thankful for the walls separating them- though he was no longer sure who those walls were meant to protect.

Mihael Keehl.

M-I-H-A-E-L K-E-E-H-L.

B thought there had never been a more seductive set of letters.

* * *

So there you have it- the first installment of 13 in my Beyond/Mello series. This one is sort of an… intro to the others. Tell me if you love it, hate it, can't see the pairing working. Whatever you want.

And now I'm going to throw a little note out to the people who have alerted or faved me as an author based on my Light/L, The Little Things Give You Away.

I'm really sorry, guys.

It's true that Little Things is on hiatus right now. I don't know when it will be off. I realize it's terrible of me to leave a perfectly good fic like that unfinished. I'm just slipping into my old patterns of half-writing something and then abandoning it. I know that's not what good authors do, and fans of the fic will be murderously angry with me.

But the truth is, I haven't been able to churn out a chapter in a very long time. I love that fic- it's mine and Nikkicatmeki's baby. I don't want to abandon it. One day, I can go and revise it, and push it onwards to the end I have in sight for it. But not right now. Right now I'm a busy as hell soon-to-be college student with a lot of stress and personal life crap going on. I'm not in the best state of mind to be writing a) Light/L humor-drama romance fics or b) anything longer than twenty chapters. And there is a LOT more that needs to be written on Little Things before I can close it off, trust me. If I'm continuing at the pace I'm at, there are at least twenty more chapters to go before I can call it anything close to finished.

I'll work on Triskaidekaphilia. I'll work on the Kingdom Hearts Axel/Roxas fic I've had in mind for a while. I'll post oneshots aplenty, because believe me I have at least thirty of them finished and ready for typing.

But no Little Things, not for a while. Maybe if Nikkiacat ever finishes all the projects she has going, I'll hand it over to her. I can't bring myself to do it. I'm sorry, guys.

With that being said, this is probably going to be a double or even triple post because these chapters are so short. So read on and try not to be too heartbroken.


	2. Magnetic

TRISKAIDEKAPHILIA

(A B/Mello fic)

Part two of thirteen. I don't own Deathnote. Enjoy. Spoilers for the end of the LABB novel, and for L's real name.

* * *

**Magnetic**- (adj) _Having the power or ability to attract_

* * *

Beyond watched him come in with only vague interest, because it was more than likely he was just another amateur fascinated by the elaborate setup in B's murders. There had been many of them at first- reporters, or newbie detectives, or just supposed intellectuals with a taste for the macabre. As the days went on, they trickled to a close. Sometimes, however, one still came, a pilgrim to an all but unknown murderer, begging for information, insight.

But as B paid more attention to him, he became more fascinated. There was an air about him- something tangibly familiar. Something about him just FELT… comfortable. B wondered if they had met before. With a name like Mihael Keehl… But B saw so many names each day, it was impossible that he would remember any given one besides THE ONE, the name that Beyond's life had revolved around.

(But today was not the day to think about L Lawliet- nor was any other day, not anymore.)

Perhaps B was just attracted to him. While he considered himself open with his attractions- (B was for Bisexual, hee hee ha ha huh huh huh) –he had never been fond of younger boys, most especially not this much younger. It could have been prison's influence on him. But there WAS no denying that the boy was beautiful- almost like a girl. His slender hips and large aqua eyes were almost as pretty as that long, shining golden hair.

The child- Mihael- came and sat in front of B's cell, holding a tape recorder and a pristine white notepad. "Are you Beyond Birthday?" he asked in a strangely firm voice. (Beyond had expected something higher, more effeminate, but the tone was undeniably masculine.)

"That depends who's asking," B said softly. He saw Mihael's eyes rake over his scars. How ugly he probably looked to this golden boy, with his Burnt and Blistered flesh.

"You can call me M," the boy offered.

Things clicked into place- B realized what was familiar about him. Wammy's House gave all its children a certain FEEL- the sense that these were more than children, that these idiosyncrasies and oddities added up to some incomprehensible, unknowable solution.

"I knew an M once," B purred. "First generation. She was good with trajectories. Are they just recycling letters at the House now?"

Mihael drew a chocolate bar out of his pocket and bit into it with a SNAP. It was reminiscent of someone else, and the imagined taste of chocolate made B's stomach lurch with desire.

"Around there, they call me Mello," the child said nonchalantly. "You can too, if you please. Doesn't bother me." He smiled wickedly. "Has the House changed since you were there, I wonder?"

He wasn't fazed in the least. He was a little smart-ass, coolly defiant, confident…

Charming.

B wondered how old the boy was. Had they, perhaps, crossed paths when this child was just toddling around on stumpy legs and B was already planning his masterpiece? Or perhaps the boy was younger, had been brought in under the heavy shadows of B and A, A and B, the failures, the experiments gone wrong.

"Why don't you tell me?" B purred. "Tell me, how is our home, sweet home looking these days?"

"I'll tell you," that oddly firm voice began, "if you'll answer questions for me."

B smiled, off-kilter. (It was hard to smile on the burned parts of his face, so all his grins were off-kilter these days.)

"Ask away."

Mihael- no, Mello- launched into his question straight away.

"You did it all for L- the murders, everything. Did… you love him?"

It was like he had reached through the bars and slapped B right across his scarred and twisted cheek.

Did he love him? Did he love him?

He tried to play it cool. "What are you talking about? He was just a featureless letter, a computer screen. I never met him, how could I love someone I didn't know?"

"Don't play dumb. I've met him, and I know you did too."

"How do you KNOW?" B hissed.

"He told me."

B wanted to reach through the walls and strangle the little cherub, wanted to crush out those pretty aqua eyes like he had Quarter Queen's.

"Get out," he snapped.

"Don't you want to know about Wammy's?" Mihael reasoned. So calm, so confident. Really, he was so charming. It made B sick.

"Get out," B repeated, but there was enough leeway in his voice for it to be an option rather than a demand.

" I know you want to know."

B went over and laid on his cot. It was so empty in here, so lonely. He was suddenly very tired. "Maybe tomorrow. We'll talk tomorrow."

Mihael had stood up, and now he was walking away. He paused to look back over his shoulder at the burned wretch in the cell. (How lovely he was.)

"I'm coming back tomorrow," he purred. "And the day after. And the day after, until you answer me."

Beyond turned to ignore him. He wasn't affected, he wasn't.

So why did the words "Hurry back, Mihael Keehl" keep echoing through his head?


	3. Maestro

TRISKAIDEKAPHILIA

(A BxMello fic)

Part three of thirteen. I don't own Deathnote or the LABB novel. Enjoy.

* * *

3.) **Maestro-** (N): _A person mastering any art, but especially a famous conductor of music._

* * *

You are a prodigy in every way, sweet Thirteen, but most especially in the art of making love.

Who would think that at thirteen years old you would have mastered this craft?

I'm unsure what I expected when somehow this proposition came up. Certainly your consent was the biggest surprise of all. What would a beautiful, budding boy like you possibly see in this burned, blackened shell that would make him even CONSIDER lying with it? Lying with me, this grotesque corpse? But you say that you want to- and you break all the rules to find a way to.

Sneaking into my cell late at night… (Picking locks and by passing security to do so… You little fiend, you could have broken me out of here if you so wanted to.) This comes as a surprise, too. Surely you would have given up on that silly desire of mine- nothing more than a drugged whim.

But you did not.

And it is like a SYMPHONY.

I expected childish experimentation, or a naïve, determined rebellion, never such…. Mastery. You say you have done this before, as though you are afraid it will make me want you less. If anything….

I crave you more. Knowing you are flawed, as I am flawed. Knowing you've been wicked as I've been wicked. I'm proud that we share more than just Thirteen, little Mihael.

Your little hands play me like an instrument, striking exactly the chords you want. Your slender body leads mine through each movement like an elaborate waltz.

I was quite the deviant in my day, but I'm sure I learn a thing or two from you throughout the course of this symphony.

I knew you were a prodigy- you had to be, coming from our home, sweet home where you chased L's shadow. But never did I expect you to be a full-blown maestro.

But I like it, little Mihael, little Mozart. I definitely like it.

* * *

A/N: Yes. I am talking about B and Mello having sex. There will be lemon expanding on this chapter later.

Mello only got that good because he practiced with Matt, though X3


	4. Mahatma

TRISKAIDEKAPHILIA

(A BxMello fic)

This is the fourth installation of my Triskaidekaphilia series ^^ This one is slightly longer than any of the others has been….

I want to credit RainbowJapan and Nikkiacatmeki for their guesses at the title… although in this case, you're thinking "phobia". Swap that suffix for "philia" and you'd be spot-on. Chibibishigirl and Minimewcutie have got it!!! And obviously, SkywardShadow does too…. Glad you appreciate the intentions of the title ^^ Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far- I didn't expect any reviews except maybe Nikkia's on this, so I'm really flattered that people are paying attention to it! Keep on reading, guys!

Also I want to answer something RainbowJapan pointed out and I was careless enough to overlook… Beyond's age. As we know, Mello is about thirteen at the time of this fic. That means L is somewhere around twenty-five… Now I'm hypothesizing that Beyond's a little younger than L, but he has to be older than Mello, and he has to be old enough to be tried as an adult in order to be in prison right now. That puts him anywhere between the ages of eighteen and twenty-four. But just out of personal preference, I'm going to say that he's about nineteen or twenty. Poor guy's not even old enough to drink yet XD Anyways, I hope that clears up a few questions. Thanks for asking, RainbowJapan!

Anyways. Don't own Deathnote.

* * *

Mahatma- (n) In some Asian religions, a person venerated for great knowledge; a title of respect.

* * *

_Near-_

_Along with the report labeled "The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases", I found this interview hidden amongst the possessions in Mello's abandoned apartment. It appears to be a fair bit older than the report, which looks to have been written only a few weeks ago. In fact, this report appears to have survived the explosion of the mafia hideout and may actually predate the Kira case itself. It doesn't appear to have any connection to our current investigation, but I thought you might find it interesting._

_-Hal Lidner_

* * *

**Beyond Birthday, Fourth Visit.**

He was sedated today when I came to visit; he was lucid enough and aware of his surroundings, but his speech was slurred and his tongue looser than usual.

I almost felt guilty questioning him in that state; where was the challenge in that? There was none of the mystery of our previous conversations, no coded clues, no subtle hints…. Nothing.

I… felt sorry for him. My poor, poor predecessor.

Nevertheless, it was an opportunity to gather information he had previously withheld, and if L taught me anything it was never to miss an opportunity.

I sat down at my place in front of his cell and he came right up and pressed his hands to the bars, something he'd never done before.

Our conversation was caught on my recording equipment, but I'll present it now as a transcript in case I ever lose track of the tape.

**B**: You came back again.

**M:** I said I would, didn't I?

**B:** You might have lied.

**M:** Now why would I do that?

**B:** You're beautiful, you know.

_(I was caught off-guard here, but eventually I spoke up. I think I may have been smirking.)_

**M:** Awfully sweet today, aren't we?

**B:** Did L ever tell you that?

**M:** I highly doubt you really want to know that, Beyond.

**B:** If I tell you I loved him too, will you tell me?

**M:** So you admit to it.

**B:** _(He giggled slightly. It was a faint trace of a laugh, not like the ones he'd faked before.)_ I'd admit to anything right now. I'm just a little doped up, Beautiful.

**M:** But you aren't lying?

**B:** No… just high.

(_He rubbed his hands over the bars anxiously. I noticed that his palms were red as though he'd been worrying at them a lot.)_

**M:** So you met? When did you meet? How long did you spend together in person? How-

**B:** Slow down…. Little messiah…. Can't process.

**M:** …When did you meet him?

**B:** I was small. He was small. Detective already… but was small. Maybe nine. I'm tired.

**M:** Stay awake a little longer… Then, I'll tell you if he ever told me… I was beautiful.

**B:** Just for you, little Messiah….

**M:** How long did you stay together?

**B:** Until puberty… on and off. Maybe not consistent…. He left a lot. Cases.

**M:** So….

**B:** I was... Maybe fourteen. He left for good. But by then he was hardly around… stopped staying at Wammy's when he was about twelve. He worked more, then.

**M:** Since he was twelve…. I would have been about one….

**B:** Baby. Little moppet.

**M:** I'm hardly younger than you were then.

**B:** S'different. I was a man then.

**M:** A man? What makes you a man and not me? Had you already killed, is that it?

**B:** Har har. Hunh hunh hunh. No…. sex. Already impure… little body of mine.

**M:** Is that all? You think that makes you a man? Then I'm a full-grown man too, Beyond. Don't act as though you know what I have and haven't done.

**B:** So, Moppet, you've tasted forbidden fruits? That so?

**M:** What's the matter, you don't think I'm beautiful if I'm not a pure thing for you to ruin?

**B:** Oh, no. Tainted… all the better. Like me.

_(At this point he slumped down to the ground and pulled himself into the L crouch.)_

**B:** Maybe you should make love to me.

**M:** In case you haven't noticed, you're in jail. Makes that preposterous request a little more impossible.

**B:** Ah. Ha, ha, ha, ha.

_(That laugh of his gave me chills- I can remember it still as I write this. It was so… hollow.)_

**B:** Have I answered enough? Let me sleep, little one, let me rest.

**M:** Just one more question, Beyond, then you can sleep.

**B:** Go on.

**M:** Why did you have to defeat L if you loved him? Why was it so important for you to crush him when he was your whole world?

**B:** You have to understand, little Martyr. It's BECAUSE I loved him. Because nothing, not ever, could give me the same joy…. Because he was a god. So long as he remained a god, every other love would only be mortal. So long as he remained a god, no food, no sex, no fulfillment could ever give me the same satisfaction I'd get from his approval.

**M:** So… you had to prove he was mortal by defeating him? You had to show that he wasn't a god, he COULD be stepped over…

**B:** Or maybe I was just bitter and crazy.

He went to sleep not long after that, no doubt sleeping off the tranquilizers. I sat there and watched him for a long, long time. He scratched at his palms in his sleep. Some sort of nervous habit or side effect, I suppose….

BECAUSE he loved L…. At first I thought it was stupid. But I kept going back over it in my mind. Because he could never love another person as much as L. So long as L remained flawless, everyone else was human and only bound to make mistakes. But L wasn't.

It was perhaps the wisest thing I'd ever heard, and I found it amongst the sedated slur of someone barely clinging to his sanity. I think maybe that statement is what made me do what I did.

I may be in the running to be L's heir, but B is more my mentor than he will ever, ever realize.

* * *

_Lidner-_

_Please publish the contents of the folder labeled "The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases." However, please refrain from publishing these notes. They will remain in my personal collection._

_As well, if you could look in the databases of all the prisons in Los Angeles to see if they have any records of a man named Beyond Birthday's incarceration, and any visitors he may have received._

_-Near._


	5. Mind

TRISKAIDEKAPHILIA

(A BxMello fic)

This is a first for me- a oneshot that I typed directly onto Word rather than referring to a prewritten paper copy. As such, it's a little rougher than the rest of this series- most of Triskaidekaphilia was written on paper anywhere from a month to four months ago. I had originally written a totally different piece for Mind- something like a visual dada poem. But with formatting issues and my general weakness at poetry, I decided it wasn't going to work. Then, I was inspired while reading over my copy of Mahatma and looking at the word Mind itself.

I have to say, I'm more than a little proud that I managed to churn out this oneshot so fast- I barely knew where I was going with it; the only part of the idea I had was the ending. And it turned out to be one of my longest pieces of the series yet- not bad for an impulse write.

If it weren't for A Perfect Circle I wouldn't have gotten through this one. Cheers to the Thirteenth Step album for not only being numerically wonderful, but also a constant source of inspiration.

You know the drill- I don't own Deathnote.

* * *

Mind- (N): The element of a human being which controls perception, thought, memory, and imagination.

* * *

"When's your birthday?" Beyond purrs through the bars as he tilts his head to one side. He's studying, always carefully studying, and assessing. Mello wonders momentarily what Beyond's assessment of him has come to.

"If I tell you, will you answer the question I asked?"

"I don't see why you want to know what I thought while I killed Backyard Bottomslash. It's really very boring and uninteresting."

"I don't see why you want to know when my birthday is. It's really very boring and uninteresting."

"Beyond BIRTHDAY? Hello?"

"Name or not. It's not going to tell you any more about me. Surely a mastermind criminal, not to mention one of L's former heirs, doesn't believe in astrology."

"Perhaps it will tell me more about you then you realize."

"Such as whether I'm jailbait?"

Beyond cackles. He's always cackling, always cracking his neck. They're creepy actions, the actions of a crazy man, but Mello can see through them. Beyond is like a child trying on his mother's clothes. Just as his imitation of L is an act, these idiosyncrasies are too. Most especially that laugh; that carefully rehearsed and perfected insane man's laugh. Beyond isn't crazy, but he's good at playing the part. He's got his mad persona as down as he had his L persona.

"Such as your destiny."

"I'm hardly childish enough to believe in destiny, Beyond."

"Ah, if you only knew…."

"What is that supposed to mean? Do you really think I'm going to fall for that?"

"I never said that."

"And yet you mention destiny knowing full well I'm going to follow this line of thought and question you on it. You mean to tell me you believe in this… this abstract concept of predetermination?"

"Answer me this question: Do you not find it true that there are elements of life which, no matter how we try, we cannot avoid?"

"Such as?"

"Such as death."

"Well… yes. I'll accept that death is inevitable for all human beings, but that hardly counts as a preconceived fate."

Beyond cackles again; it's almost sincere this time. It feels less like an attempt to unnerve Mello and more like an attempt to seem genuinely amused.

"Alright then, take that concept, and think about it. If all mortals are destined to die one day, then could it not also be true that there's a set time and date of death for every living being?"

"That's a little far-fetched, isn't it? Death is unpredictable; it could strike at any given moment. The fluorescent light above me could fall on my head right now and kill me, I highly doubt that's something anyone would see coming."

"Ah, but think of it this way. If you were not here, the light would still fall, wouldn't it? But a sequence of events leads to your sitting in that exact spot. You were orphaned as a child, which lead to your acceptance to Wammy's. You idolized L, which lead to you discovering his past cases, which lead to your investigation of me, which lead to you wanting to interview me, which lead to your visiting the prison in which I reside. If you're going to die by that light fixture, then every event in your thirteen years of life has led to the moment of you being struck by that object."

"What about things like cancer? That's hardly something that can be determined by the actions we as humans take."

"Well in that case, the body itself sets its own time of death. Cancer comes from our own cells being over productive, does it not? In this instance, one could say that the time of death has been known from the very time cells formed this person's body."

"Supposing your idea was right, then, Beyond…. What does it matter? And what does it have to do with my birthday? You aren't going to go so far as to tell me you can find someone's death-day by hearing their birthday?"

"Oh, no. Not at all. I've known what day you'd die from the moment I set eyes on you. No, I was just curious as to the pattern of the numbers in your life. Numbers are so very capricious, after all."

Mello isn't sure how to take this revelation. Beyond claims to know when Mello will die? Is this more of his baiting, another something to be taken with a grain of salt? Beyond has been distorting the truth since the first full answer he gave Mello, and at this point the young blonde has realized he is far more likely to lie than to be truthful… But perhaps that is WHY he is being truthful now. Perhaps he knows that Mello will never in a million years believe him, and that is why he is not hiding as he usually does.

"If I asked you when I'd die, would you tell me?"

"No. Of course I wouldn't. Typically, that messes everything up. If I tell you, you'll be on the lookout for it, and your paranoia will either cause you to die early or save your hide for a later date. In the very act of telling you, I'm changing the numbers, so you'll never be able to prove that I was telling the truth."

"So basically, you won't tell me, and if you did tell me, it'd become a lie anyways?"

"Exactly."

"So what reason do I have to believe you at all?"

"None whatsoever."

Mello sits back and studies Beyond. The man's face is half-scarred…. When Mello read the report on Beyond Birthday, he read that Beyond's face had taken the least damage. Though he can't see it, he knows that the main mass of scarring lies on Beyond's chest and back. He had set the match to his shirt after dousing himself in gasoline, and his clothes burned rapidly, doing extensive damage most especially to his upper body. Half of Beyond's face is still whole, untainted by the flames. He would be attractive if it weren't for the layers of masks obscuring his true face. There is the layer of scarring, the layer that marks him as B the criminal. Then there is the L makeup and expression he continues to wear despite no longer resembling the famed detective. And last is the maniac's grin he continues to wear, the shield of pretended insanity that keeps him from the world.

"My birthday is December 13th, 1989."

"Another thirteen. Those do seem to haunt you, sweet Mello."

"Funny, this coming from you."

"Numerically, it is funny, is it not? You are M- the thirteenth letter of the alphabet. Thirteen is often heralded as society's unlucky number, is it not? And you, dear Mello, seem to have rotten luck. Coming in second to that Near I hear tell of-"

"Don't mention that bastard's name." Mello refuses to get angry at the mention of his rival. He shoves down his anger because he knows Beyond is baiting him, fishing for a reaction.

"And never QUITE being able to outshine him… Yet his letter is N. That's fourteen- a letter that FOLLOWS yours in the alphabet. That means that, most likely, Near came to Wammy's after you, isn't this true? So he usurped the throne from you- came in following you and yet overshadowed you as an heir. You were pushed back in the alphabet, never following your number's logical path- just as, in many old buildings, the thirteenth floor would be skipped, and the floor numbered thirteen was often labeled fourteen."

"I think you're trying to piss me off. I'm not going to get angry just because you want me to. I answered your question, now tell me what you were thinking as you killed Backyard Bottomslash."

"I was thinking of how I wanted to win. Just as you must think of wanting to win over your Near quite often, yes?"

"You're making this about me, Beyond. I didn't ask for leave from Wammy's, fly to Los Angeles and come to this shithole of a prison to find out about myself."

"But your story IS my story, sweet M… We're inexplicably linked."

"By what? Your bizarre numerology?"

"By numbers themselves, Mihael. Numbers do not lie."

Mello is stunned by the name. He hasn't heard it in years, not since he was small. He has no idea how B knows it-surely he can't have access to Wammy's secret files, not from in prison like this.

"How do you-!!"

"That's not important." Beyond looks up at the clock on the wall and clicks his tongue. "Damn. We're out of time this session. Isn't that a shame, you hardly got any answers out of me." He grins. Mello almost feels like punching his lights in. The bastard- he'd been stalling.

"Just remember, Mihael," Beyond coos as the guards come to escort Mello out, "We're together in mind."

Mello doesn't figure out the quip until he's sitting in his hotel room that night, staring at his manila folder and thinking on what Beyond said on numbers. He swears under his breath and takes out a pencil, writing out on the back of one of his reports.

_We're together in mind_

_MIND= M I N D_

_M= 13_

_I= 9_

_N= 14_

_D= 4_

_9+4= 13_

A 13, another 13 broken into pieces, and 14- the replacement for 13 B ranted so much about. Mello can't help but laugh to himself at the pathetic irony. No doubt B was the broken 13, which meant Mello was the M in Mind- the very first letter.

Beyond gave him something. Beyond finally let him come first.

Mello balls up the paper with the equation on it and tosses it into the trashcan.


	6. Mania

Triskaidekaphilia

(A BxMello fic)

Part six of thirteen. Sorry it took me so long to update. Ever since moving out of my dorm room at school, the paper I wrote this fic on has been buried at the bottom of a very large stack of paper that I keep shoved in a cabinet in my room. I kept intending to fish it out and type up some more, but I never got around to it until now. But the good news is that I now have my own computer, so typing up fan fiction should be considerably easier for me. SHOULD BE being the key words; who knows how hectic my schedule will be when I head off to school?

Anyways, warnings for this chapter include some blood, slight disturbing imagery, and a not-quite-so-lucid as he had been Beyond.

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**Mania** - (N):_ An extraordinary enthusiasm or craving for something; intense excitement and physical over activity; often a symptom of manic-depressive psychosis._

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He was going to come back today.

Little Mihael was going to come back with his manila folder and his lion's mane. He'd come back after the first day, just like he said he would, and he'd kept coming back. He sat in front of B's cell for hour upon hour, grilling and pressing him.

He'd collected every shred of information B had broken down and given him about the LABB murders. He'd drawn it all out of him, willing or not- how B did it, what he said, how he felt.

Only…

B has finished with the murders now.

He'd told every word there WAS to tell about that pitiful failure; he was totally drained of all emotions on those tired killings.

Would Mello bother coming back after B had nothing else to offer about that pathetic attempt at rebellion?

B sat up suddenly in his prison cot, his hands fumbling with the covers. Mello- no, Mihael- he'd said he would, but now that he was through with his recordings…

Would he WANT to spend any time with a failure like B? When he seemed to detest failure so much himself…. Would he really come back into this prison just to indulge a killer, a common criminal?

B slid out of his bed, hands feeling suddenly itchy and chest feeling tight. Mihael said he'd come back. He had to come back. He made B feel…

Human again.

Not just a walking set of eyes.

The scream came unbidden as a vice grip seemed to tighten on B's lungs and his hands jerked and spasmed, the skin and muscle burning like an echo of those damnable flames. FUCK, he couldn't BREATHE, he…

Mello HAD to come back, if he didn't…

B's hands burned so bad. He scratched, trying to get the old scars to stop screaming at him, trying to deaden the nerve endings. "FUCK!" The screams wouldn't stop. Whether the pain brought them, or the vice grip on his lungs, or the fire now eating B's flesh, the wasted man couldn't tell.

Layers of skin were coming off but this FUCKING ITCHING wouldn't go away.

Beyond knew withdrawals when he felt them. This… CHILD. This child was giving him withdrawals. As though that blonde hair could be inhaled, that skin could be ingested, those aqua eyes could be shot straight into his ever-gasping veins.

Ingesting Mihael's skin- tasting that silken luxury… Beyond's mouth watered. The spider-itching crawled from the backs of his hands to his palms. The palms that held murder weapons… the hands that crushed out Quarter Queen's eyes. What would it feel like to pop out Mihael's pretty aqua ones? The wet gush of fluids, the spasm of Mello's body beneath him, the gasp and cry, as though this were an entirely different sort of penetration.

No… no, these hands couldn't ever be laid on that boy. These hands were only good at killing, breaking things. Mihael made Beyond want to believe not everything decayed. That maybe this kid wasn't doomed to turn out just like Beyond.

So Beyond couldn't lay a hand on him. Why did Beyond even need hands? He had no soul. He was just a walking set of eyes, an abstract death god.

So these… these things attached to his wrists… they could go. Hell, if Mello wanted, Beyond would hand them to him through the bars, a little present wrapped in ribbon- here, take my hands, you'll need them more than I will. He could present them on his bloody stumps, holding them out like offerings at a grave… And if Mello didn't want them, if he didn't accept this plea of an offering… Beyond would just dump the useless bits of bone and gristle down his toilet.

With no hands, B would be innocent, be clean once more- it was his hands that had killed Backyard Bottomslash and Believe Bridesmaid, no hands that crushed a thirteen-year-old girl's eyes, crushed in her skull…

Had B been screaming this whole time? His lungs were doing things of their own accord. His hands- those fucking SPIDERS…

They had to GO.

Beyond smashed them against the metal framework of his cot. NUMB, fucking NUMB already, he wanted to stop feeling the damnable little nerve endings to stop- CHRIST, STOP already-

Pain radiated up through his arms straight to his elbows, but no numbness.

This wasn't working. Beyond had to try a different approach. Slowly.

The thought of Mihael's flesh in his teeth brought on the idea. Beyond could peel his hands a way a little at a time, take off the useless skin to get to the muscle and meat.

The blood tasted foul as it bubbled up in his mouth; Beyond spat it out. Contrary to popular belief, Beyond didn't enjoy the taste of human flesh. He gnawed with canines and incisors, struggling.

He would peel all this away. He would be rid of all this.

When they arrived in B's room to sedate him, they pried his bloody hands away from his mouth. They ducked the blood and skin B spat at them. But even as the needle sank into his neck, B felt no release. There was only one thing that could end this burning, this aching.

He was going to come back. He had said that he would. He promised…


	7. Masochism

Triskaidekaphilia

(A BxMello fic)

Since it's been so long since I posted, here's your treat- a fairly speedy second post AND a lemon. Isn't that thrilling? Originally I was going to double-post, but this lemon turned out far longer than I remembered, and the version I'm presenting you has actually been TRIMMED DOWN a bit… I bet all you dirty birdies are excited. Well, there are some warnings necessary for this one… First of all: (and hopefully you've figured this out by now) THERE WILL BE SEX. EXPLICIT SEX. Between an almost-twenty-or-possibly-already-twenty year old man and a thirteen to fourteen year old boy. But I should also warn you about violence, moments of dubious consent, and of course language. As well, let me just say:

Beyond Birthday is an atheist in my eyes. This is not because I think atheism is the best theological choice, not because I myself share his views, or because I want to encourage anyone else to become atheist. It simply fits with his character- and he will throw around some names in vain, but hopefully if you're reading male/male sex between Beyond Birthday and Mello, you're not the type to be offended by this. If you are… don't say I didn't warn you.

Enjoy. I don't own death note. Part seven of thirteen.

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**Masochism**- (N):_ A condition in which sexual gratification is marked by pleasure in being subjected to physical pain or abuse._

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"How in the name of hell did you get here?"

B had to whisper it, but it was a frantic whisper.

There was no way the figure in front of him could be here. Beyond remembered being sedated earlier today…Surely what he was seeing was a product of the drug, a sluggish cocktail of sedatives still coursing through his body. This form, this little body, with golden hair and vicious aqua eyes… There was no way it could be at the foot of his bed. Beyond struggled to decide if he was a hallucination or not…Of course the burned man knew he was crazy, but not THAT crazy. After all, he was in a maximum-security prison. It wasn't exactly easy to get into, especially not for a young, barely-teenage boy like Mihael Keehl.

The letters floating above his head confirmed it: Mihael Keehl. If this was a mirage, it was a mirage with an accurate name and lifespan.

"It's far easier to dupe the security system to get IN than OUT," the hallucination whispered softly, climbing onto the foot of B's cheap prison cot.

"Provided you're real, you could bust me out of here, couldn't you, you little asshole?"

Mello laughed, thick and warm. "I'm real, B. But busting you out of here… that would be too hard. I'd have to go on the run, I could never return to Wammy's… Besides. If you really wanted out, you could just convince L to give you a full pardon, couldn't you?"

Christ, but he sounded so real… FELT so real and warm next to B… But if he WASN'T a mirage, what an AUDACIOUS, snotty little brat…. He had the NERVE to bring L up, while he was sitting here… so close to B, within reach of Beyond's hands, Beyond's eye-popping, skull-crushing, limb-sawing hands….

"So why, little Mirage, did you risk sneaking your slimy, deceitful, conceited little ass in here?"

Mello cast his eyes down, but then he looked back up and met B's gaze with determination.

"Remember… what you said earlier? Your…proposition to me?"

Oh, but he felt so REAL, his breath was so warm, Beyond could see the dim light catching his little golden lashes. Slowly, the drug-clouded conversation from earlier started to piece itself together in Beyond's memory.

"That I wanted to have sex with you? …You are aware that was just a prison-loneliness and sedative-cocktail deluded bit of nonsense, right?"

Mello bit softly on his lower lip. The action made B's heart race for reasons he wasn't entirely at ease with.

"I suppose it was. But I was… flattered."

Flattered? Hallucinations could feel like that?

"So you came to have your ego stroked?" B leaned forward, pressed lips to the shell of Mello's ear. Christ… he couldn't be a hallucination, he COULDN'T, he was really here wasn't he? "Do you expect me to tell you how beautiful you are, how much I love you, how much I pine after you? Do you expect me to lavish words of praise upon your skinny body?" Beyond laughed bitterly. "You ask too much."

What he didn't tell Mello was that he WAS beautiful that he DID pine after him already, that any words he heaped at this young man's feet would be true. He couldn't-wouldn't- let him know that.

Mello-Mihael sighed softly, turning, leaning into B's lips against his ear. "No… that's not it, I just…"

"What? You what?"

"…I can't stop thinking about you. You fascinate me. You're…"

"I'm what?" B started to reconsider his previous assessment. If Mihael was real, there was no way he would say that. Fascinated? With a grotesque thing like B? Simply wishful thinking.

"…irresistible."

B smirked, dropped his voice an octave, kept it at his carefully practiced soft, flat monotone. It was dark here in the cell, so… he could pretend that the scars marring his face weren't there, could pretend he still looked like someone worthy of Mihael's attentions.

"Irresistible? Could it perhaps be that dear Mello-kun is attracted to me because I represent something he cannot have? It must be that when you narrow your eyes and tilt your head, I look like him…" Beyond raised a hand up and shivered as his fingertips brushed the golden Mirage's chest. So warm and solid… "Mello-kun is so young, and yet he already has such desires… a prodigy in so many ways…"

His hand slid across Mello's chest for a split second before the boy recoiled, his eyes bulging and his expression shocked and furious.

"Don't do that!"

"Do what?" B asked in his best L voice. "Does Mello not like my intonations?"

"Don't!" Mello snapped. "Stop… sounding like him! Sitting like that! You don't… have to do that…"

"What does Mello mean?" B's flat enunciation was perfect; he had years of practice after all.

Mihael had always been so daring, so bold. His very presence here (if he was, indeed, real) proved that. And now, as if to drive the point home…

He leaned up and kissed B softly on the mouth.

"I… I really like Beyond Birthday. I like the Los Angeles BB Murderer with this scars and puzzles and infuriating codes. It drives me mad when you hide something in plain sight before my eyes. I love when you refuse to answer one of my questions. I like the way you pretend you hate me, but I can see you looking at me and I know you want me the same way I've been wanting you since I first heard about you."

Since he first heard of Beyond… christ, this WAS a hallucination. But Mello felt so real, he was whispering against Beyond's lips… His kiss was so smooth, his face so close, his hair was brushing against B's skin…

"I'm a killer," Beyond murmured. "What could be so attractive about that? I'm bad… I'll hurt you…"

"Maybe I want to be hurt." Mello whispered, his lips sliding up to B's ear. "I don't want to be treated kindly or told I'm beautiful or given praise. That's not what someone like you can offer. You know what it's like to be a failure like me. You and I… we're… equals…"

Beyond suddenly felt sick. Someone considering him an equal….

He grabbed a handful of shimmering gold, yanked hard. Pulled Mihael's head back and sank teeth into soft, warm skin on Mihael's throat. Mello cried out softly- his voice was so fucking PURE.

He bit down HARD, till he could feel the bruise forming under his teeth.

"You think you're like me?" the killer hissed as he drew back, yanking Mello to eye level by his golden hair. "I'm a monster. You want me? You say you always wanted me? I bet you don't want to be fucked till you bleed. I bet you don't want me to make you fucking beg me to stop."

Mihael whimpered at the back of his throat and whispered "yes".

B… didn't deserve this. This… this Mirage, this little dream… Beyond's mind couldn't possibly conjure up something so warm and solid and real, breathing and fragile, trembling in his hands.. How could this perfect little thing want him so much?

He shoved Mello down against the cheap cot, yanking in blind anger at the Mirage's clothes and flinging them across the room. "You won't be like me. I'll show you. I'll show you what a fucking monster I am. I'm hideous, inside and out."

"No.." Mello chanted softly as B's sore hands raked over his ribs, his stomach, "No, I want this, Christ I want this, I want you… god, Beyond Birthday…"

Mello had an erection. How amusing. What a complete and detailed hallucination this was proving to be… Mello moaned softy and arched, straining to be touched by B.

"What a little dick," B purred, running one finger over it. "You little brat, pretending you're an adult with a tiny cock like this."

Mihael flushed darkly and looked away, but he did not protest, and he did not get angry. Would he still want B if B battered him with words and actions alike? Would he still want B if B made him feel like trash?

"You better be a good fuck," B hissed, "or else you're the worst drug trip I've ever been on."

Mihael said nothing, but he closed his eyes and sighed eagerly as B's sore hands brushed over his nipples.

"Slut," B mumbled, almost to himself before reaching down and jamming two fingers into Mello's entrance.

The blonde cried out loud- still softly, wouldn't want to wake the neighboring cells- but loud enough to raise the hairs on the back of B's neck. Without any sort of lubrication Beyond was sure this was excruciating, even if Mello wasn't a virgin. He yanked his fingers almost all the way out before ramming them back in, drawing another cry out of Mihael. The boy arched up and clawed at B's cheap cotton bed sheets; surely he wanted to stop now, surely he didn't want Beyond anymore….

But no, Mello reached up and placed on hand on B's scarred cheek, sending jolts of pain through raw, hyper-sensitive nerve endings there. B didn't pull away from that soft touch, instead, with the hand not inside the little Miracle, he pressed those slender fingers harder against his face, so that the pain was raw and fierce inside of his skull.

He only stretched and prepped the little Martyr with his fingers for a moment more, just enough so he wouldn't have to work inside of him. A ragged moan worked its way up from somewhere deep and primal in B. It had been FAR too long since he'd been with anyone. Even knowing how awful he was- knowing how wrong it was, knowing what a sin he was about to commit- he wanted this so badly. Mello clamped so tight around his fingers, and his little body was hot, slick with sweat, and so beautifully smooth in the dim light.

B removed his fingers and took a deep breath before ramming himself inside.

Oh

HELL

Yes.

Mihael, little martyr, this dream beyond delusions, squirmed and whimpered under him. "Hurts, doesn't it?" B gasped raggedly. He had to struggle to form the words, had to struggle not to simply make animal noises. "Hurts like… a bitch…"

"Feels so GOOD," Mello moaned .

Still? Still, with B pushing dry into him, most likely tearing him? Still he wanted this… FARCE, this joke of an act?

B yanked out of Mihael and roughly flipped the boy over onto his stomach, one hand pressing on the back of his blonde head, forcing the boy's face into the sheets of his cot. He didn't want to see his face… didn't want to see those lustful eyes, he'd crush them out, he wanted to make this little Martyr hate him, he wanted to make this little Monster fear him.

"FUCK," he growled as he shoved himself once again into that tight, tight little orifice. He had to make the boy HURT, had to make him SQUIRM and never want to see B again.

His hips slammed against Mello's as he shoved in, drew out and shoved in HARD again. God, it was so good.. So… fuck, he didn't even have the mind power to form a word describing it. He clutched at Mello's slim hips until his nails broke the skin, and then dragged his nails slowly up his perfect little back and shoulder blades, tearing skin along the way. Mello must have been hurt- bleeding- because things felt slick and warm, no doubt lubricated by blood.

B felt like an animal noise echoing inside his mouth and barely realized he was making it. He silenced himself and listened to the pounding of his heart, the slam of skin on skin as he immersed himself in the Mirage under him.

And then…

"Oh CHRIST, B, right THERE, fuck… feels so GOOD…B, B, B, B, B!"

Even muffled by the sheets, B could hear the passion in the pure voice, the voice that was so much deeper than one would think…

B felt pain rising up in his chest. His hands slackened, his nails loosening their death grip on Mello's soft skin. He stopped his harsh pounding, stilled his body and stared.

"B… don't stop…" Mello murmured breathlessly.

"Why?"

"I… I like it…. You…. You feel perfect inside of me…"

The scream got out before B could stop it, quickly chased by a strangled choking sound that Beyond attempted not to call a sob. He leaned forward and buried his face between Mihael's slim shoulder blades, wrapping his arms around the blonde's slim body and clutching him close. He tried to hold himself back, suppress the feeling bubbling up in his chest, but he couldn't stop the tremor of pain running through his body.

He wouldn't cry. A grown man, a man in prison no less… he wouldn't cry like an idiot on the shoulders of a possibly-imaginary lover for reasons he couldn't explain.

Mello squirmed in B's arms until he could roll over and face the older man. B pressed his whole, unburned cheek against Mello's smooth stomach. His eyes shut tightly as he tried to stifle any more weak, foolish emotions. He almost had himself composed when the Mirage, the Miracle, reached down and gently touch B's burned cheek once more. The flash of pain broke B's guard and drew a small cry out of his dry, cracked lips. He flinched away from the caress this time.

It HURT.

What had B been doing? What had B been trying to prove?

"I'm sorry," Mello mumbled. As if he had anything to apologize for. "Does it turn you off if I call out? I can be…"

B shook his head vehemently, refusing to allow Mihael even to finish the sentence.

"I tore you. I made you bleed."

"It's happened before," Mello replied lightly, smiling to show B he was okay with it. "I don't mind."

"I'm a monster…"

Mello tilted B's chin up, raising him to eye level, and then moved to kiss him softly. "We can still finish. I'm still ready."

B looked away, feeling nauseous. "I don't deserve.."

"Oh shut up." The force in Mello's voice snapped B's head back around, forcing him to do a double take and look at the warm, real hallucination in his arms. "You moron. I LIKED what you were doing to me. I like you, Beyond Birthday, a lot, and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop me. You can hurt me all you like. You're just going to keep me coming back for more, not push me away."

B was…stunned. His mind wouldn't produce something like this, would it? Something that adamantly refused to follow his expectations, something that continued to defy his preconceived notions. He'd thought of Mello as this pure thing, this cheeky little cherub… but never something so rough, so… wicked as this boy was now.

It made B laugh. A real, startled laugh, not one of the ones he had to practice and plan. At the sound of his laugh, Mello smirked.

"You've done things your way." he whispered, "now would you like to try it MY way?"

B grinned his consent.

The little masochist pushed B off him, pushed B down onto his back, so B was laying flat looking up at those beautiful eyes and that gorgeous shining lion's mane. He peeled Beyond's shirt off to discard it on the floor next to his. He peeled Beyond's pants off to fling them across the room.

Now they were both completely bare, skin sliding against skin in the dark, the sensation raising the hairs on the back of B's neck. It was so sensual, so… intimate. Mihael's little hands moved across his ribcage, over his chest, nipples, and collarbones.. There was a stark contrast between the sensation on the whole, smooth side of Beyond's chest and the scarred side. Across his burns, there was pain, and the faint, muffled echo of the motions of Mihael's fingers. But every one of Mihael's feather-light touches on his other side sent electric tingles of pleasure straight through to the roots of B's hair.

He moved his legs against Mihael's to feel the smoothness of their thighs rubbing together; slid his sore, bruised hands over Mihael's silky shoulders. Their chests met as the little miracle leaned down to kiss him, and their tongues met as the kiss grew heated. Oh, but this devious child knew how to kiss. B sighed against him, opened his mouth wider, moved his lips between the wonderfully soft ones presented to him.

While it had been quite some time since B had been with someone, it had been even longer since he'd kissed. It was so… intimate.

Mello tasted like chocolate.

The little blonde sat up suddenly, pulling away from the warmth of the kiss to smirk down at B. "Want to be inside me now?" he purred.

"So bad," B breathed, his hands sliding to he angles of Mello's hipbones, the tight blonde curls between his legs… a hand slid over Mello's erection and the boy's breath caught in his throat for a minute.

Mello glanced down at Beyond and grinned, a strand of his lion's mane falling down across his face.

"You're a monster," Mello purred softly, "But so am I."

B laughed under his breath. "My little monster."

Mello rocked his hips slightly against B's, sending delicious tingles of pleasure through the killer's lower body. Oh, but that felt good. B arched into it, grinding them together, seeking out the sweaty friction.

"Christ, I need to be inside you now," Beyond demanded. Mello moaned at the force in B's voice- a low, harsh sound that made B shudder with anticipation.

Mihael sat up straight, straddling B's hips, and looked down at B like he would a piece of meat. B knew then that he was just this boy's puppet; that even his earlier attempts at force had been just what Mihael wanted. That he couldn't do a single thing this devil in disguise didn't allow.

This feeling… it was almost like being OWNED… B felt like he was being taken advantage of.

It was undeniably hot.

Mello rubbed his hips slightly against B's once more, positioning himself so that the tip of B's erection just barely touched his entrance. He remained like that for a long, breathless moment, until B moaned "GOD!"

Mello slammed himself down, pushing B deep inside of him.

"Oh GOD," B repeated, an atheist's desperate prayer for more. Mello was hot and tight and slick with blood from earlier and dear sweet LORD B loved being inside him.

Mello moved his body masterfully, working his hips up and down, sliding B in and out of himself. He moaned as he rode B- low, breathy, HOT moans.

B clutched at Mello's hips, guiding each movement, groaning with each little sound that bubbled from his new lover's chest.

Normally, B liked to call the shots- he was an aggressive top, after all. Letting Mello control things like this, letting the little masochist determine the pace, the position, how deep B was allowed to be inside him… It wouldn't have normally suited B at all. But this little monster challenging his unwavering hold on dominance… letting this little devil DOMINATE him…

B had never really had anyone resist him before; everyone had always eventually cracked. He'd pushed, but no one had ever pushed back…

Plus, Mello was just damn good at this.

He could see Mello's back arching, his head thrown back so that hair cascaded over his shoulders like sunshine in this dim, dim place. Mihael let out a gasp every time he pushed himself down around B; he was masterfully moving his body so that every movement triggered that sweet spot inside him. Christ, the way he was moving, those SOUNDS…

B couldn't take it any more.

He sat up, pushed Mello onto his back. Pushed those slim little thighs until they very nearly touched Mihael's ribcage, kissed him HARD and pushed back in.

Mihael, miraculous Mihael, moaned into his mouth.

B pounded, pushed, shoved in and GOD Mihael was tight…

"Harder," the little Mirage groaned against his mouth. "FUCK, B, harder…"

Oh, yes, B would be all too happy to comply with that request. He DROVE in, SMASHING against that bundle of nerves, drawing very near SCREAMS out of Mihael's throat.

B couldn't hold out much longer, no, this Mirage felt too good.

He started touching Mello, wrapping his hand around the base of that erection and pumping. In response he got these overwhelmingly pleasured sounds that were almost too good to handle. He was still slamming in, still pushing inside so ROUGH and now he pumped the blonde faster, harder…

"Nnnh! Aaaah, B, I'm gonna…!"

B slammed into his little lover one last time before Mello spasmed, clamping down HARD around B as his back arched and oh christ he was coming.

Oh GOD, god, GOD GOD GOD who was he even praying to? There was no god, no higher power, nothing more than THIS

But

HELL

This felt so good

Something like an animal snarling trickled out of his lips as wave after wave of pleasure washed through him. He exploded, hot and gasping, into his lover just as Mello was coming down off his own orgasm.

B drew out slowly, feeling Mihael wince slightly under him, and collapsed onto his cot beside the small, warm figure next to him.

This had to be the best drug trip he'd ever been on.

"That felt AMAZING," Mello purred into B's chest.

"Mmhmm," B muttered back, already drowsy and warm and sleepy, so sleepy he felt sedated…

"You know," Mello murmured, reaching up to touch B's scarred cheek, "I could fall for someone like you, Beyond Birthday."

It hurt inside his skull- a throbbing, raw ache when Mihael touched that raw patch of damage.

He wanted to brush off Mello's hand, roll over and go to sleep, ignoring those words.

But he couldn't.

"I could end up loving you, too, Mihael Keehl."

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But was it a dream? :) review.


	8. Malady

_Triskaidekaphilia_

(a BxMello fic)

Sorry for the long, long delay in posts. You would think now that I have a laptop I'd be on the internet more often, I'd be typing up fan fiction all the time. But really, I never have any time these days. I've come to realize that most of my time at this point needs to be devoted to homework, homework, homework. Never let anyone delude you into thinking art school is easy just because you do nothing but art. Art school is HARD. I usually have to put in six to twelve hours of after school work a week PER CLASS. Especially for 3d. Add to that that I just got Legend of Zelda and… well, my life outside my apartment is dwindling. Good thing my babe, my inspiration, my Mello Theswampdragon lives with me and manages to keep me on track. Anyways, enough complaining about my awesome life (because it's really awesome despite my bitching). I have a super long weekend since I'm off Monday and Tuesday of this week, and I thought since I had nothing else to do I'd treat everyone to a double, maybe even triple update of Triskaidekaphilia. Because as awesome as that smut is, the story doesn't end there. SOOOOO here is the next chapter. Enjoy and remember, I don't own Deathnote or Another Note. If I did, this pairing would be canon. And I know all the B/L and Mello/Matt fans would probably hate that (not that I don't support both of those pairings as well because I DO)

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**Malady- **(N): _A chronic disease or sickness._

_

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_

The worst part is always when they grab ahold of me to jab the needle in.

You would think after all this time I'd have stopped struggling and learned to take the shot with acceptance, resignation even. But no- some animal part of me has to fight, to spit and scratch and throw punches, some animal part of me can't just let them inject burst into my cell and grab my hands, yank them back. They grab fistfuls of my hair so I cannot move. My eyes roll up and study their lifespans and every bit of me is wishing immediate death on them.

You see, when the officials come in and survey this place, they like to see that we inmates are all complacent and calm and well on the way to recovery. This is a CORRECTIONAL facility, after all, and they have a need to pretend we are learning to fit better into society.

I'm a convicted serial killer; I'm never going to be integrated back into society. And that monster inside me bites and spits and scratches because I know that.

They sometimes hit me across my marred flesh while they are subduing me- across my chest, shoulders, and back, where most of the scarring lies. That doesn't bother me so much. Those burns were third, fourth degree, and most of the nerve endings are dead. I feel it, but barely, and it isn't as painful as I know it should be.

Why am I fighting this time? Why don't I give up? What brought out the monster now?

It's you. I want you, I'm sick with wanting you, hating myself for wanting you, and so this beast inside me rages and destroys and screams.

It's the blows to the face that bother me, most especially the right side where the most burned tissue lies. It is hypersensitive, the nerve endings scorched raw, and the lightest touch against my blackened flesh can leave me screaming. They only hit me in the face during the worst fits, when I am truly ranting and convulsing like the maniac I am.

Today is one of those days, Monster. You made me sick. Sick with wanting you, with the rot that has been taking more and more of my mind from me. You came in here with that golden lion's mane and you made me conscious again, and now I have to be aware that I will never get out of here, and never be whole enough to be with you, and I will never be anything but a broken creature. I'm going to be stuck here, and you're going to go home, sweet home to Winchester clutching a manila folder full of my words. I'll stay sick, and what's left of my mind will leave me.

And in time, as those numbers tick down, you will die. You'll die young and tragic and where will I be? For all I know, I'll still be here, rotting, unable to cheat my lifespan.

I let the drugs do their job. Because I don't want to be awake. I want to close the eyes that you forced messiah. I just want you to come back and deliver me from this illness. Are you the medication for this malady or are you the cause?

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Another chapter should be posted soon. I love you, dear readers!


	9. Moppet

_Triskaidekaphilia_

(A BxMello fic)As promised, here it is, DOUBLE UPDATE ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE SKY~! YEAAAAH YEAAAAAAAH, SO INTENSE!

I should stay away from the internet. Here, have a chapter.

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**Moppet**- (N): _a child, a darling baby. _

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The fact remains that he's thirteen and I'm not a pedophile.

He's thirteen. Do I remember Quarter Queen? Of course, how could I forget?

The feeling of her tiny body convulsing as I beat her skull with a blunt object. Crushing out her eyes post-mortem, the wet gush of fluids over my fingers.

She's one of the few murders I have nightmares about.

Killing her was necessary. Killing a child- it was to make me seem more monstrous. I had to be crazier, had to be more evil, had to be less human. It was to send a message to L, it was to mix up the clues, it was to throw him off my trail.

She was going to die anyway. A child like that, at home alone… I shuddered to think what fate would have befallen her if I hadn't been the one to take her.

She cried when I injected her with the drug. She became very still, and very limp, but there were still tears on her cheeks. Her eyes were damp when I shoved my fingers into her sockets.

I see her in Mello, a little. There's little mental similarity between them, but there's the physical- he's pretty, like a budding flower, like all those horrible clichés they assign to children on the verge of adulthood. I imagine killing him. I think about it more than I think about fucking him, to be honest. His eyes are so pretty. I wonder if his vision is 20/20. I wonder how he'd look with glasses stuck over blank eye sockets.

He's so small. Growing, of course, but even for a growing boy he's short. He'll be an average-sized adult, I can tell, but there's only just the beginning of muscle definition in him. His jaw is soft, but the soft lines will turn to hard edges over time.

I know he's going to die young. I've been seeing it over his head since he first came in. He'll make it out of childhood, but just barely. He'll be no older than I am today when he withers, dies.

Christ, he's thirteen. I would find his age hilarious if I weren't so bitter about it. And I KNOW he's not a child in so many ways; the pure sexuality that oozes from him, from his walk, from his lips…. He's no virgin.

Still… I'm an adult. I'm no prodigy anymore. My teenage days are done, I can be tried as an adult in court. I'm twenty, society says I'm responsible for my own actions. And he.. No matter how much bravado he puts on, I see the way he chews his lips when he thinks I'm not looking. The awkward movements of his hands.

I see her in him. I see his blood on my hands.

I try and escape but the fact remains that he is thirteen and I'm not a pedophile. The fact remains that I can't stop aching, pining, hating, wanting him. The fact remains that I can never, ever have him.-

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I just noticed AFTER typing these two chapters that they're both in first-person perspective. So much for variety between chapters. Eh, the next ones will be vastly different, or so I hope. Here you go, enjoy the update.


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